Roses are red, Violets are blue
by A kittie boi
Summary: MurEra AryNasu. after being freed from Galbtorix's hold, Murtagh rejoins the Varden. nobody but Eragon trusts him, but is Eragon's faith, all he needs? they quickly find themselves in a strange prediciment, but can't help but enjoy it. slash incest lemons
1. Battle's Aftermath

Roses are red, Violets are blue

M

Warnings: Slash, Incest, lemons, dark themes, spoilers for anyone who has not read Eragon or Eldest.

Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon, it belongs to Christopher Paolini.

Chapter one; battle's aftermath

Eragon swayed, slamming into the ground, his vision becoming unclear. He could make out Murtagh, is newly known elder brother, standing above him. Thorn, Murtagh's dragon, stood only a few feet away, gazing with smoldering ruby eyes, and Saphira was behind him, her own eyes frozen over, as she snarled at Thorn. Eragon's lips made to say Murtagh's name, but only the word formed, no sound escaped from his shredded throat. He'd screamed, falling forty free-fall feet, with almost no impact softeners. His back was broken, and he could feel every nerve in his scar, as it desecrated the feeling along his skin. His temperature was rising, and he couldn't make out his brother's words anymore, his hearing long since gone, now his vision. Senseless, he lay there, almost forgotten, or so it seemed. Murtagh had set Thorn on Saphira, and was now kneeling next to Eragon, murmuring words, to the almost unconcious boy, who couldn't see or hear him.

"Slytha... Little brother, Eragon." The magic invaded Eragon's dead senses, and his mind drifted, despite his efforts, wasted, as he went slack and a restless sleep overtook him. He made small noises, dreaming uneasily, as Murtagh looked at his wounds. Saphira had come closer, still battling Thorn, in a way, and kept an eye on Murtagh, as the boy tended to the other's wounds.

"Waíse heill!" He exclaimed softly, in his little brother's ear. Saphira stopped fighting, feeling some of her pains ebb, as her rider relaxed, completely defenseless. Murtagh was startled, something rare to do, when Saphira's voice shuffled into his mind. _What do you plan to do to him, red rider?_ She asked, worriedly, and defensively. Murtagh remained silent, only for a breath, tapping his chin. His eyes felt themselves being tugged down to Eragon's lithe form, and he smiled. _Nothing... Saphira._ There was indignation at him using her name, but Murtagh didn't really care, as the blue dragon didn't really mind, and Thorn was lost. He growled. _What is this? What is happening all of a sudden? Galbatorix will be angry that you let him go!_ Murtagh sighed. _I know. But..._ He trailed his gaze along Eragon's face. _I can't take Eragon to that man... He'll hurt him._ Thorn snorted. _No shit_. Saphira hissed at the red dragon, who hissed back, offended. _You'd give him up to that monster? _Saphira asked, her eyes full of disbelief. Thorn looked away, and snorted. _Damn it!_ He looked back at Murtagh, _And you won't change your mind?_ The rider shook his head. Thorn sighed, _Fine. Good-bye Saphira... I'm glad I got to meet you, I might never see you again..._ Saphira tossed her head, annoyed. _He won't kill you, drama queen. He needs you._ Thorn nodded, _But his torture methods... Make you wish you were dead... I find it hard to believe, Galbatorix is human, he has become like his dragon; Shruikan, full of emptiness and hatred. That man, is far too gone to be saved._ There was regret in his voice, as he looked away, into the ash filled wind. His searching gaze traced the plains, covered in pulsing hot-spots, and charred remains. Saphira followed his example, and tore her gaze away, almost immediately, saddened. Murtagh didn't bother looking up, refusing to let his eyes leave Eragon, who lay, still asleep.

Natsuada stormed from her tent, her eyes vicious. Some of the warriors around her edged away inconspicuously, Arya's lips tightened, but she stayed put. Natsuada walked right up to her, and her voice, when she spoke, was as hard as polished dragon scales.

"Where are they." Arya flinched a little, but hid it well.

Stony faced, "I don't know." She told Natsuada, who swore in return.

"Dammit, where the hell are they?!" Her face turned up to the sky, as if she'd see them riding swiftly back, victorious, or at least alive. But there was no way to find them, Eragon could not be scried or magically located by any other means. He was invisible to them, or rather, they were blind to him. The dark skinned woman turned on her heel, stopped by Arya's voice;

"We're doing everything we can to find them." Natsuada stopped, breathing heavily, but evenly.

"If you haven't found them yet, you aren't trying hard enough." Then she walked away, stalking through the camp, causing many to jump out of her battle armored way. Arya's face went hard, her eyes followed the dark skinned woman, blazing with anger. Wasn't trying hard enough? Eragon was impossible to find! Did Natsuada know how many charms and spells were on that boy?! No. She didn't, and Arya found her anger dissipating, knowing the woman was only concerned for their safety. Taking in a deep breath, Arya turned to consult with the mages, who were useless, worn out from their battle.

Eragon's eyes opened, slowly to block out the wind. His stirring was caught by his dragon though, and Eragon found the rushing feeling, which flattened his clothes, familiar. _Hello, little one._ Eragon groaned, and tried to sit up, quickly finding he couldn't. He frowned, and panicked._ What is this? Why can't I sit up? Saphira!_ The dragon chuckled, calming the rider somewhat. _Murtagh strapped you down, so you wouldn't fall off when I started flying._ Eragon sat back, well that's a relief... He thought. How considerate of Murtagh to- Wait. Murtagh?! Memories invaded his mind, forcing themselves back into his head, like needles on fire. The blue rider cried out in pain. Saphira instantly used some of her magic, to ease the pain, and Eragon's head throbbed, but there wasn't anymore sharp pain. He sighed. _Murtagh... What happened Saphira?_ The dragon remained silent, flying at a swift and steady pace. It seemed she wouldn't answer, which unsettled Eragon. _Little one, Murtagh is in hiding. He's burnt off the immediate seals, but he cannot stop the ancient language oath. He will wait as long as he can._ This confused Eragon, but Saphira refused to say more on the subject, until he was well enough to ride normally again. Sulking, the blue rider slipped into a phase of unrealistic memory recall.

_Little one! Wake please! Little one!_ Saphira's agonized cries woke him instantly, and pain exploded in his shoulder and arm. He knew, also, instinctively, that it wasn't his pain, but Saphira's. _Saphira! You're hurt!_ Her response darkened his mood. _Don't worry about me, try to make a shield._ He did so, and the onslaught of arrows ended. Saphira landed gracefully, and the pair found themselves surrounded by soldiers. Of the Varden. Enraged, the bonds on Eragon snapped, and the blue-eyed teen slid from Saphira's back. His scowling face had the guards palling instantly, and backing away with jerky frightened moves. Saphira caught the profile of his face, and winced.

Natsuada came running, infurated she called her guards off. She turned to the scowling teen, and found herself taken aback at his face.

"Eragon, I apologize about them..." Eragon waved her off, and was at the other end of the courtyard in an instant. His mood seemed to be summoning lightning, but Saphira knew it was only an illusion, he wasn't strong enough to summon lightning from pure will... Yet. She turned to Natsuada, and bowed her head with a sigh. _I am sorry. He is upset, he will apologize later._ Natsuada shook her head.

"No, please. Don't make him, the battle took a lot out of him, he is tired." Saphira nodded. She would make him apologize anyway. Then she took off, in search of her young rider. She found him packing, which confused her.

"I'm going to find Murtagh." Saphira's eyes widened. _NO._ Eragon looked at her, his hands paused. _You are not strong enough,_ Eragon's face contorted into aggravation.

"Not strong enough?! I'm never going to be strong enough, for what ever is dished out for me to accomplish! Never, never, ever!" Saphira sighed. It was true. She looked at Eragon. _I know a way to free him from his bonds, with Galbatorix._ Eragon froze.

_Murtagh? Um, if I may be so bold as to ask..._ Murtagh waited. _WHAT THE HELL ARE WE DOING HERE!?_ Murtagh sighed._ Thorn, I'm waiting. He'll show, I know him._ Thorn snorted. _Eragon Shadeslayer, yes. He'll show, of course, because he still feels ties to the brother he thinks abandoned him. Yeah. He's coming to see you. On civil terms. Oh yeah. Totally._ Murtagh scowled. _You don't have to be so negative!_ He shouted at Thorn. _Why do you only ever see the worst of things? Why must you always put down everything I do!? Why do you have to be so... So... Argumentative!?_ Thorn looked away. He didn't answer, but not for the reason Murtagh thought. _Murtagh, I don't want him to hurt you. I want you to think through every action you go through with, I want you to stay alive. You matter to me. I know he wouldn't, attack you... Willingly, under his own influence. However..._ Murtagh didn't want to hear the 'however', so he severed the connection, and felt hurt radiating from Thorn, who lumbered off to sulk. Murtagh sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, which Eragon loved so much. He didn't know why, he hated that he couldn't comb down his hair, and have it _stay_ combed. He was worried, about if Eragon _was_ coming to kill him, or not. He hoped not. He really hoped not. Sighing, Murtagh lit a fire, and curled up next to it, his worry making him sick.

"Murtagh," Said boy shot up, drawing his stolen sword. It pressed against a familiar neck, and Murtagh lowered it, loosing himself inside blue innocent orbs. "Hey..." Eragon whispered, as he sat down next to his older brother. Murtagh moved over, so Eragon could have some of the fire's heat. They both sighed, Saphira and Thorn watching each other warily.

Finally Murtagh spoke, "Eragon, why did you come?" Eragon hesitated, struggling to find how to tell his brother, exactly why he'd...

"I don't know." Murtagh lowered his head, resting it on his drawn up knees. "I was so angry, that, the first person I thought of, was you." Murtagh blinked, his eyes widening. He rolled his head, glancing over at his younger brother. "I wanted to talk, to you."

"Not to Arya, or Natsuada? Or Saphira?" Eragon shook his head.

"Arya and Natsuada... Are friends. But... They're not as close to me, as you are." Murtagh's heart leaped, and he didn't know why. "And Saphira... You know she knows, just about everything I know, and usually more." Murtagh felt his lips quirk up, he _did_ know. Thorn was the same way, he assumed all dragons were like that, with their riders. Meanwhile, Eragon was fighting a small, internal, skirmish. He wanted to mention it to Murtagh, then again... What if the other refused...? But, what reason did he have to refuse? He didn't. Gathering his courage, Eragon spoke;

"Saphira says, she can free you from your slavery to Galbatorix."


	2. Bonds broken and forged

Roses are red, Violets are blue

Disclaimer: I do now own Eragon, it belongs to Christopher Paolini

chapter two; bonds broken and forged

"Arya!" The black haired woman swiveled around, her eyes meeting Natsuada's. "You're going to look for Eragon, he's vanished." Arya jumped to her feet, eyes wide. She passed by Natsuada, loping past the soldiers, who cursed and leapt from the way, to avoid being run over. Arya slid on some straw, crouching cat-like, at the stable door. Rising, she walked in as if nothing had happened. The stable hand stared at her, afraid to anger the beautiful black-haired elf, who seemed to be on the edge of tearing him apart. He handed her the reins to a gorgeous stallion, its blended hair made it seem as though it was a lit halo of fire. Arya accepted the reins, swinging into the saddle, instantly spurring the animal on, and felt the power under her. The elf lady realized what the animal was, it was a pure-bred elven steed. Unlike those who roamed the forests of her homeland, it was a true horse, ones that magic breathed life into.

Natsuada herd the thundering of hooves, as Arya, and a strange fiery steed rushed past, with speed that no normal horse could achieve. The wind backlash was amazing, her hair was torn from its bun, to float above her head, like a dark haloed hood, casting dancing shadows across her face in the sunlight. A rare smile graced her, as she watched the woman ride, now at the gates, and race through them. There was power, and agility, and control, as the woman rode expertly, this steed that had the same blood as she, magic, that sang at such a high pitch, it was almost too much for others to bear. Arya was something incredible, a mystery that had no wish to be solved, and would continue to confound you, no matter how much you discovered.

"What?" Murtagh asked, shock on his face. "A way to...?" Thorn looked interested, and regarded Eragon, his eyes lit by interest. Saphira nodded. _It is true,_ She told Thorn, as Murtagh's mind was blocked from her. Thorn sensed no lie, and rumbled. Murtagh leaned back, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Eragon couldn't help but chuckle at the expression his elder brother held, and the gleeful noise wrapped around Murtagh, and jerked him out of his daze. He looked at Eragon, speechless. Thorn rolled his smoldering eyes, _How, do you plan to free us?_ His voice was harsher than Eragon expected, and Saphira growled, making Thorn look away ashamedly. Eragon looked to the ground, bitting his lip.

"The bond you have sworn to Galbatorix," Saphira blew out through her nose, making steam. "is strong, but if you find someone, who would forge a stronger one..." Murtagh's eyes flew up to Eragon's, searching, but finding nothing.

"Eragon...?" The question hung in the air, both dragon's held their breathing, and so did both boys. Time froze, nothing moved, the world too, waited.

"Murtagh," A breath, short and panting. "if you'd like... I think that I... Saphira and I..." Murtagh leaned in, unconsciously, at the apprehension. "Could... Do it, for you." The blue rider wasn't prepared for the unfiltered joy in his elder brother's eyes, or the loud whoop, or the hug, so tight it crushed him somewhat. He wasn't prepared, but he was glad all the same, and his stomach knotted delightfully. Murtagh found no words to describe how... Thankful, how... Happy he was. He settled on Eragon's name. It made him feel the same joy, that threatened to burst him now.

"Eragon." He whispered, his grip fierce, as he refused to let harm come to the one he held so dear. Saphira's eyes were gentle, as she watched the two, Thorn chuckled. _Ah, this may work out in their favor._ Saphira's gaze slid to the side, observing Thorn from the corner of her eye. _Something tells me, those are double sided words._ A ferocious smirk. _Maybe._

Arya felt a surge of magic, and reined in her horse, perched on the saddle, her nose to the air. Ears twitching, she let all restraint go on the horse, and the rush of wind stole her breath. Wildly, she searched the surrounding terrain, following the pulsations of magic, and what she saw shocked her so badly, she almost tumbled from the saddle.

Eragon could feel Arya's presence, but he didn't acknowledge it. Murtagh was panting, his eyes filled with unknown and well-known emotions; Lust, need, grief, anger, and longing. Eragon met those suffering eyes squarely, with his own, which held comfort, patience, a hint of sadness, power and love. It made his brother blink, his magic twitched, but didn't stop from pouring out of his very pores. Eragon took in a shuddering breath, weakened and tore at his palms skin. Murtagh did the same. Where the dripping blood landed, it smoked, searing to the touch, like their feverish faces. Their palms pressed against each other, the blood mixing with each others, the others dirt and sweat, fingers lacing, ensuring no contact would be lost. Eragon and Murtagh whispered in the ancient language;

"Murtagh Shadowtamer, I accept thee into thy being." A faint grin. Then Saphira echoed. _Thorn Sunscales, I accept thee into thy being._

"Eragon Shadeslayer, I accept thee into thy being." A twin twitching smile. Thorn echoed. _Saphira Brighteyes, I accept thee into thy being._

Arya's eyes widened, the entire conversation had been broad casted to the world, she was sure Galbatorix had heard it, and was now raging. The ancient language binded them together, until the end of time, and she felt the dark clawing hold of the dark king, lessen. To her surprise, it weakened to the point where it was taken, and flung with outstanding venom, back into the face of its caster. The two riders fell, unconscious, from their dragons, fingers locked.

Natsuada was furious she paced her tent, and her guard swore later, that the ground beneath her was two inches deeper than it had been. Her pacing wearing down the ground. At the moment, Arya could believe it, she'd never seen the woman so angry, and she'd known her a long time. Finally, Natsuada stopped, and flopped onto her chair, rubbing her wrinkle-free face, with weary movements. She needs a bath. With hot water. Arya decided, suddenly and quite irrationally.

A moment later, Natsuada echoed Arya's thinking; "I need a bath, with hot water... Yes, that would be very nice. I-" Natsuada bit her lip. "I hate war." The elf looked away, she did too. It left nothing but ruin, nothing but pain and misery, and blood soaked ground, littered with bodies, hacked to pieces and scattered across, and a feasting field for carrion crows.

"Eragon, you idiot. Always taking risks, that shouldn't be taken. And Murtagh..." She looked at Arya. Her voice stern. "Don't remove Murtagh from Eragon, we don't know what the spell did. There might be some nasty side-effects, and until we're sure, don't separate them." Arya didn't like it, but nodded with a grimace, and left the tent, and the much younger woman to her brooding thoughts. Eragon had tested his trust, seriously, as had Saphira. Murtagh and the red dragon... That was yet to be determined. But, Arya couldn't bring herself to trust him, oh so easily, just because Eragon did.

The feeling of eyes on him woke Eragon, and he found himself gazing into smirking yellowish red-brown orbs. _Murtagh..._ His mental voice was a mere whisper, faintly brushing across his mind. _Good-morning,_ came Murtagh's voice, though his lips didn't move, and it didn't sound like it had come from him. It sounded mental. _Murtagh? Are you hearing my thoughts?_ A voice full of laughter._ No._ Eragon found it impossible to not smile at that, and he smiled. Just then, Roran intruded in on the tent, followed by an irate guard. Saphira growled, though only her head was in the tent, and her eyes were closed. Eragon blinked.

"Roran...? What are you doing here cousin?" Eragon's question didn't receive an answer, as his brother's mouth dropped open with shock, as he tried to process the scene before him.

"I... I didn't know you..." He coughed. "Swung that way, cousin." Eragon blinked, and looked at Murtagh, who, he realized, was in the same bed as him. Blinking slowly, Eragon then grinned. Murtagh caught the thought. _Don't tell him._ Murtagh wrapped his arms around his little brother's waist, and fit his head onto Eragon's shoulder. Eragon smirked.

"I don't." Roran's brow furled, and Katrina, whom everyone had ignored, giggled. She tugged at Roran, and smiled at Eragon and Murtagh.

"Oh, you're so silly Roran." She remarked. Roran looked between Katrina, and Eragon, and the strange man (Murtagh), snuggled with Eragon. He frowned.

"What the hell am I missing." Murtagh released Eragon.

"Hello cousin. Nice to meet you." The voice jolted something in Roran, and a sudden roar made him jerk out of the tent. His eyes stared at the riderless red dragon, which landed gracefully and roared again, causing the soldiers to flee, and hide like small children. Saphira growled playfully, amused.

Roran looked at the man (Murtagh), who pulled himself out of bed, detaching Eragon who rolled onto his stomach and swung his legs around childishly, and groaned. He rubbed his head, his other hand he examined. There was a thin scar, running from one side of his hand, at the top, to the other side, at the bottom. He rubbed it absently, Eragon noted this.

"Roran, I'd like you to meet, your cousin and my brother; Murtagh Shadowtamer." Roran gaped a moment, then looked horrified.

"You slept with your brother?!"


	3. Stirring passions

Roses are red, Violets are blue

Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon. It belongs to Christopher Paolini. CHRISOPHER PAOLINI.

chapter two; Stirring passions

Eragon watched his brother for a few short, silent, moments. His eye decided to have a muscle spasm, thus showing, quite brilliantly, his irritation and disbelief. Murtagh roared with laughter, falling to the ground, his laughter brought tears to his eyes, and his fist pounded on the ground. Eragon found himself hurt, but realized that it was at the look on Roran's face. Eragon snickered.

"You idiot. I'm not sleeping with him." _Sadly._ Eragon chuckled. Murtagh stopped and rolled over onto his back, taking on the guise of a mock-serious person, and stuck his tongue out at Eragon. _Sadly? _He asked, glee in his eyes. Eragon felt his cheeks burst to life, flushing a royal crimson all across his high cheek bones. _Sh-shut up!_ He told Murtagh, looking away. Roran's brow furled together again, and Katrina was only a little better than her to-be husband, she pulled his hand, leading him from the tent, in hopes of giving the pair a little privacy. Saphira withdrew her head. _I'm going hunting._ Thorn made to follow her, _I'll come with you! I could use some flying lessons._ He winked. Saphira rolled her eyes, _You wish._ The two lumbered off, bickering like an old couple, to the amusement of their riders. Once they were gone, Murtagh tackled Eragon, pinning him. The blue rider protested, though his face, now staining darker, clearly said otherwise. _What's all this, 'sadly', business?_ Eragon turned his head away, and Murtagh would have none of that, as he took his free hand and grasped Eragon's chin, making their eyes meet. Eragon's widened, as Murtagh leaned down, pressing their lips together softly, quickly, then drawing back, his own face now resembling a beautiful pre-sunrise. _Murtagh..._

Natsuada moaned, settling down into the steaming water, her muscles relaxing instantly. She sighed in contentment, her eyes closing halfway, as the bath worked its miracle. Tilting her head back, his lusterious hair cascading behind her, her mind sank down, deep within the reaches of the living, pleasure, and a deadened calm wrapping around her, caressing her, working away the knots and the worries. Humanly possesions, and everything that attached her to the world, drifted back, and she felt no reason to call to them, to hold them, the open expanse of emptiness, far too appealing. Voices, words she couldn't understand, swarmed around her, faces and places she only remembered from her dreams, flashing under her eyelids, and her childhood. She didn't hear the voices, right in her ears, whispering; Slytha... And the dream state was no different from what she was in, there was no change, her breathing didn't change, her awareness didn't jerk around, didn't return. She didn't notice the water, going cold around her, or the dangerous position she'd been placed in, simply by forgetting where she was.

Arya burst into the bathroom, finding Natsuada in the bathtub, asleep, in freezing water, and close to catching her death, if it was not upon her already. She quickened over, lifting the woman from the tub, gasping at the life so close to being extinguished, in her arms. It frightened her. She didn't want to loose Natsuada, the dark-skinned, dark-haired woman was her best friend, a companion till the end, and it would not dawn here, when she could prevent it. A fierce will of protection swarmed up in her, and it was only through her magical probing, that she realized Natsuada was bleeding from the inside.

Eragon moaned into the kiss, feeling Murtagh settle onto him, and he pressed back, trying to eliminate any space between him and the other, to bring them as close as they could be, one. Nipping kisses, sticky licks, tracing, ghosting down his neck, attending his collarbone. Panting. Pants, heavy, in the heated air, passion, alive in their veins, and the magic expelled from their body, with enough force to burn, and scar anything, or anyone. There was no distinction between them, as far as they were concerned, their minds melded, like their mouths, dipping into sweet seduction, and flavor. Invading tongues, warmth growing, friction building. Rational thoughts, tossed like clothing, shyness non-existent, passion rising, and hatred and rivalries flighting around them, in their rough playing. Eragon teased one of Murtagh's nipples, the older stiffening at the sharp pain, invading his dulled mind slowly.

Arya covered Natsuada with blankets, forcing warmth into her by magic means, calling to her mind, and was rewarded by a woken, very feverish, Natsuada. Who's face flushed instantly, her face, and life-force returning, the iron will showing in her confused eyes. Panting, struggling to escape the heat, but Arya held her down, choking on the relief, and joyous sight of the woman. She shook her head, keeping her hold on Natsuada.

"Sleep... Lady of Varden, you have been tricked by magic fools. Sleep... Slytha..." Natsuada's eyes wavered, up-down-up-down-up, and down. Her head lolling to the side, her breathing slowing, her mind returning to the flickering place, between awareness and dreaming. Arya bent, her hair framing her face darkly, and pecked at the edge of Natsuada's lips, and then she hurried out the door, startled at her sudden bold move, and confused. Halting, she turned back, eyes sad. _Oh Natsuada, you confuse me so much... What with your will, and beauty, and love of your people..._ She looked away._ What will I do, when I cannot have you?_ Little did she know, as she fled, Natsuada's lips curled up, she'd been aware. She'd felt the kiss, and accepted it, with much happiness. Arya would not accept it, and her mood dampened, her worry, and confusion coupling, as she passed Eragon's tent, which blazed with pulsations of passion, energy and lust. She turned away, the soft moans echoing in her head, her heightened hearing making out panted words. Not really distinguishable, and not often occurring; the boys spoke, mind to mind, passionately, and intimately, in their truest, most sacred form. Arya wondered how Saphira was holding up, with all this.

Angelia looked over at the sleeping Solemburn, with a slight smile. Worry constricted her mind, as she sensed something was wrong at the Varden headquarters, where she was headed... As soon as Solemburn woke up. He was so lazy. She sighed, watching the sleeping cat-creature with affection. A sweet smile playing on her lips. It seemed he could relax, even with the balance of power shifting so violently. It was amusing, to no end.

_Murtagh...? _Eragon asked, quietly, almost afraid. _Mhh? _Murtagh sleepily thought. _Did we...? _The question quivered. _Yes. _Murtagh said flatly. _I'm not a virgin anymore... Am I?_ Eragon's voice was dry. _No. Do you regret it?_ There was a pause, then. _Hell no._ Murtagh's mental laughter echoed, leaving Eragon with a sense of content. He snuggled down against his brother, friend, companion, fellow rider and new-found lover. Murtagh sighed happily, stirring Eragon's hair gently, and they both collapsed into much needed sleep, after their rough loving romp, still basking in the afterglow of their previous actions. Saphira and Thorn, who had just come back, were also extremely satisfied, and curled around each other, joining the riders in slumber.

Arya found herself staring at Natsuada's constantly shifting form, and loosing sleep. She sighed, and dragged a hand through her coiling black hair with irritation. What was she still doing there? She wondered, blinking owlishly, her red eyes stinging from the one-sided staring contests. Pressing her lips together, she leaned back in her chair. A weak voice stirred her, and she tipped back too far. Sprawling on the floor in shock, she sat up.

"Arya..." Natsuada moaned in her deep, fever-induced, almost coma. Arya blinked, blushing.

"Natsuada...?" She asked, but the woman was truly still asleep, and Arya righted her chair, confused, now, more so than ever. She put her hands against her face, letting the weight carry her to her knees, slumped wearily.

"Natsuada... What have you done to me?"


End file.
